


Interlude

by bexacaust



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Oral, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 03:00:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7203761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bexacaust/pseuds/bexacaust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kimia was a place of science; where thoughts and ideas took root and blossomed into inventions that hurtled the Cybertronian race to the forefront of galactic technology; who’s creations walked over Death as it strode to true immortality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude

Kimia was a place of science; where thoughts and ideas took root and blossomed into inventions that hurtled the Cybertronian race to the forefront of galactic technology; who’s creations walked over Death as it strode to true immortality.

….And, apparently, it was also a den of sin.

Specifically, just outside a seminar on trauma recovery; the importance of psychology and restoration of processor function.

On the tail end of a mass exodus of mechs from all factions pouring in, seeking aid, seeking modification, seeking treatment for everything from a chest-cold to missing limbs to mass-system shutdown.

It was one of those where Perceptor, the young “favorite” of Xaaron, had met Deadlock; who claimed to be a neutral. With no visible brand either way, Perceptor took the claim at face value, and had treated the mech for gunshot wounds and sent him on his way; with a little conversation.

And then, Deadlock had come back. Had offered his services as a bouncer of sorts; a master of the removal of troublemakers. Perceptor still wasn’t sure the mech didn’t haul those who dared interrupt the healing round back and shoot them, considering the sheer volume of weapons on his person.

At the moment, however, Deadlock’s most deadly weapon was his glossa.

Perceptor bit hard on the heel of his hand, the other hand gripping Deadlock’s helm finial like a lifeline. One of the scientist’s legs had been pushed over Deadlock’s shoulder, the heel digging into dark shoulder-plating as Perceptor’s hips bucked and shifted. Between his thighs, he swore Deadlock was devouring him; glossa and lipplates setting his sensornet nearly on fire and he was only one overload in, so far-

Overload number two rolled over him, making his back arch off the wall he was held against and Deadlock purred. The rumble vibrated against Perceptor’s valve and he yanked his hand from between his dentae; now gripping both of Deadlock’s finials as he curled over the mech’s helm and gasped for mercy.

Perceptor wheezed a ventilation, straightening again to look down at Deadlock, who’s face was slicked in lubricant; his optics were shuttered and his hands squeezed Perceptor’s hips.

Perceptor’s helm tilted back against the wall with a dull thud as his legs began to shake. He panted, open mouthed, feeling another overload rising on his sensornet’s horizon.

“D-ha- _Deadl-lock_ I _can’t_ -”, a soft moan cracked the sentence in half, “I c-can’t-I’ll f-fall-”

Perceptor almost shouted when his other leg was gripped, moved, thrown over Deadlock’s free shoulder and he hung between the wall and an eager mech’s mouth.

Perceptor tried to hold back his voice; he offlined his vocalizer as he began to spit static, thighs clamping around Deadlock’s helm as his grip on those finials grew to almost painful and he overloaded again.

His valve throbbed around the glossa within it and Perceptor acutely felt the metallic muscle retract only for lipplates to capture his anterior node; and then Deadlock purred while sucking and Perceptor thrashed.

His vocalizer force-onlined, but nothing but static feedback came from it as Perceptor’s chest heaved and steam poured from his vents like an active volcano before eruption. He shuddered and arched, his optics blazed white and Deadlock continued to let his rumbling purr carry on and on until weak pushes against his helm and soft spits of white noise told him Perceptor couldn’t handle any more stimulation.

The mech grinned, letting Perceptor’s legs slide from his shoulders and watching as the scientist limply slid down the wall, shaking like a new leaf in a storm.

Perceptor watched in a delicious kind of needy agony as the glossa that had teased several overloads out of him slid over Deadlock’s slicked lipplates; watched a drop of lubricant slide sluggishly down Deadock’s jawline to vanish into neck components.

“Berth?”, purred Deadlock, finials relaxed and amused in their position; scuffed with black from Perceptor’s servos.

Perceptor nodded, “But Ikssshtn’t-”, a soft reset of a vocalizer, “Can’t wssssshkalk.”

Deadlock laughed, a low sound like warm molasses or barrel-aged rum, and stood. He stretched, backstruts crackling before he leaned down and pulled Perceptor’s arm over his shoulders.

Once Perceptor held on, Deadlock hooked his now free arm under Perceptor’s weak and trembling legs and put the other around the scientist’s back and lifted him like he weighed nothing more than a stack of datapads.

“I gotcha, Percy.”, he snickered, surprisingly silent steps taking them down the hall as the sounds of the door beside them being unlocked were heard, “Now let’s _ **really**_ get those legs ‘f yours shakin’ hm?”

They were gone before the door opened.

**Author's Note:**

> ((A Birthday Gift for a friend!))


End file.
